


Nobility

by lextenou



Series: KIGO 100 by fortheloveofpizza [4]
Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anachronistic, Community: Kim Possible Slash Haven, F/F, Female Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 00:40:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11498184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lextenou/pseuds/lextenou
Summary: A Princess deserves a proper Prince.





	Nobility

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Purple](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/307077) by fortheloveofpizza. 



Upon the occasion of my birth, my father made a decision that would have the utmost repercussions upon my life. Bald, naked and soaked with birthing fluid, my father took me into his arms and declared me Prince and Heir. I'm told I completely ruined his favorite jerkin.

Little comfort that brings to me now. 

Though he had declared me Prince and Heir, to any with eyes, it was clear that I was very much so lacking that which would make me truly male. As such, I occupied a singular legal standing. Many sought to topple me, some coming closer than I'd care to think about. My father was a crafty devil when it came to protecting his own, with the Morningstar's own intellect in regard to tactics. He strove to have me trained to be deadly to any who would dare to raise a hand against me. By the time I had outgrown short pants - heaven forbid the Prince should wear anything but proper clothing! - I could easily defeat the entirety of the Palace Guard. 

I knew, even at such a tender age, that my victory was less for my skill, which was abundant, than it was for my knowledge of their fighting styles. These were guards whom I had trained with constantly since I was able to stand on my own. Day and night, at mealtimes and during sleep, I would be attacked without provocation. My senses grew sharp with the unexpected threats. I learned quickly how to spot treachery in trap form, hiding places where assassins could lie and to hear that which sought to not be heard. Once these abilities were as breathing, I sought opponents I did not know. 

It wasn't hard. A solo ride in the countryside had me surrounded by a band of uncouth brigands. From their scruffy demeanor, it appeared these men were those the guard had been murmuring about at breakfast - their talk providing the impetus for my leaving my home to find them. They eyed me as a fatted lamb. A few grinned with shockingly black teeth. It appeared that the bad crops the last few years had driven these poor men to waylaying unsuspecting travelers. 

Little did they know I was neither unsuspecting nor a traveler. I was on a hunt, and I had found my prey.

Their weapons were rough, repurposed scythes, rakes and axes. I knew better than to underestimate them. Their stances were off balance as only a raw fighter is. A band of untrained fighters could be more dangerous to a solo fighter than a squad of highly trained soldiers. Soldiers move a certain way in a fight, due to their training. It's possible to predict their moves.

Men untrained beyond the taproom brawl, that was an entirely different fight. It would be no less than a melee. My hope for a victory lay in taking out those with the most dangerous weapons first, those of the long reach and projectile. 

I leapt from my steed and with two booted feet to the head, took down a man armed solely with a scythe. Their reaction time was slow. I was able to take down the man with the axe before they moved to swarm onto me. 

My surprise was mild when I handily defeated them, long before the guard detail that had been indiscreetely following me caught up and joined our dalliance. The details are boring. I found little sport in their defeat, knowing as I did their wretched state. My father...he almost burst with pride, especially when I stepped forward to offer a rehabilitation and aid proposal to keep the men from an extended stay in the dungeon. The smile he afforded me made me carry my head high for weeks as I enacted my aid plan. The men who had attacked me were shocked not only to find the identity of whom they had attacked, but that I would seek to help them and theirs. They were the first of my patrolmen, each squad fiercely loyal to me and tied directly to the areas they guarded. I now have many others, each recruited from the towns near the roads, to guard the travel paths for weary wanderers. Their tithing is miniscule, their taxes proportional - they are employed by the state and their fees are withdrawn before their pay reaches them. 

The men are happy now. Their towns prosper, growing with the small trickle of immigrants. I'll have to deal with the border towns within the month. Their populations expand and dwindle like the bellows. Perhaps a weekend diversion to my outlying regions is what is in order for me. It should make for excellent sport.

Though naught but the mention of physical training has passed my lips, think not that my mind was at all neglected. It would not do for I, the Prince, to have any less than the best tutors! The most advanced lessons! I learned much from my scholars. I care little for the knowledge, but I retain it. One might never know when such tidbits are needed. Indeed, without that knowledge, I would not have known the solution to my kingdom's brigand problem. The answer lay in a dusty old tome I had read as a babe, barely weaned from mother's milk.

I speak little of my mother, but she occupies a fond space in my heart. What can a woman true offer a Prince born female? I accepted easily her love and devotion, and returned it to her as any proper man. To this day, making her happy is a task I delight in. 

It was in striving to make her happy that I agreed to this...farce. I am a Prince, born and raised, yet I know little of the things that men know of women and none of those men expect from women. I am not of a mind to question my mother in this matter, and am loath to admit to my father that I am lacking in any area. He takes such pride in me that nothing stands but that I must continue to curry his favor.

So I stand here, on display like an absolute git, and try to hide the discomfort at this arena where I am sorely outclassed by everyone that surrounds me. Why my mother thought I needed a coming of age celebration, I'll never be able to fathom. Its not precisely an option for me to find one willing to wed me. I'm a poor prize. 

Well...given the wealth of my future kingdom, the number of those willing to wed me isn't lacking...merely not exactly what I seek. Of course, it would be beneficial if I knew what I sought in the first place. I'd never cared much for the tomfoolery of love.

A few brave souls came forward to seek a dance with me. It was...painful. Awkward, that is, to dance with the men. It was akin to a badly choreographed fight, only it was as though they were untrained babes, worse than my brigand brigade at the start. My movements against them seemed to throw them off, to the point where one unfortunate lackwit almost fell upon his backside. 

It's not like I had been taught how to follow.

I'm a Prince. I don't follow.

The latest insipid weakling slinks away from me, murmuring his thanks for my attention. I barely heed his words and turn away with a nod. His hands were warm at least, unlike the lordling who had sought my favor first. I could have sworn the light silk of my shirt was stained from his damp fingers.

Damned twit.

He'd smelled like frippery and flowers. Dead flowers. 

Rotting, sickly sweet flowers.

I hate rotting flowers.

They hadn't all been bad. The second man had been highly tolerable. If I had the inclination, I could probably suffer his presence for quite some time. Minor noble though he was, his station was of an advanced enough state that a match would not be out of the question. It helped, also, that he was pleasant enough to look at.

Not nearly as pleasant as the figure in lavender that approaches me, however...she fills out her corset magnificently - the gentle swells of her breasts serve to completely derail my thoughts. A slim waist curves delicately inward beneath the succulent display, her hips flaring out the skirt of her dress. Staring, dumbfounded, I raise my reluctant gaze to the elegant line of her neck, then upward, tracing over pouty red lips. Then, I am captured by arrestingly limpid pools of verdant green.

Methinks I know now what I want.

Luminous and arresting, I am well and truly held fast by her open gaze. She rakes me with her assessing scrutiny, head to toe. My breath hitches in my throat and my sure step falters as I feel the impact of her light eyes. I scramble to recall if I have a stitch of clothing out of place, had I shined my shoes properly, is there anything I had neglected, anything she could find fault with?

I know consciously what I want now. There is no doubt, no hesitation. It's her.

I know neither her name or standing. I care naught for such trifles at this moment. I have done enough in my short life to warrant myself freedom in picking my life's mate. I'm certain my mother was thorough in assuring that only those of proper standing would be allowed within during this night. She had taken pains to warn me that if I chose not on this night, she and my father would choose for me.

This dire threat was dismissed now. I had found her.

Moving to meet her, the incessant throng parts for me, disappearing from my set path. Reaching her, my hand extends in invitation. Unable to draw breath until the time of her answer, I wait dumbly, my wan smile the only outward indication of my interest.

It sufficed. Delicate strength slides into my own callused grip, firm and sure. She allows me the honor of escorting her to the dance floor, my focus riveted to her even as I watch those around us. 

It appears she knows what she wants as well.

My heart sings even as I wonder. Did she know me? I had never seen her before in the entirety of my existence, yet...there is a familiarity our bodies know even if we ourselves do not. I can feel it in the ease with which she moves with me, against me. It is as though we'd been training with one another for years.

Stopping, I draw her into my arms, one hand slipping around the slim curve of her waist, the delicate material caressing my roughened palms. I hold the other in a gentle cradling, just firm enough to guide her through the steps we shall soon be making. I'm sure my face shows my thoughts in clear relief. She looks up at me with gentle trust, and with a bracing breath, I sweep us into the steps of the dance.

The music is slow, but the pace is brisk enough to warrant our constant movement. My feet move automatically into their proper places, my hips sliding against hers as I guide her in shifting across the dance floor. Just enough space exists between us that I know not the decadent press of her body against my own. Not yet. Soon enough. A light flush dusts her cheeks as we spin around the room. Whether it was my embrace or our exertion, I would not be able to say.

"Thank you, my lady, for this turn." The soft words fall from my lips unbidden, years of etiquette schooling coming through without conscious effort on my part. The smile she turns to me is mysterious, unfathomable. I am unwilling to muster the wherewithal to break my gaze from her shining visage.

"I fear the thanks must be my own, Your Highness." Ah, so the chit does know me. At the least I have that introduction shunted, though I must still ascertain her name, which I seek in the next breath.

"You have me at a disadvantage, my lady. You know my name and my station, yet your own are a mystery as vast as the skies." The woman enjoys my flattery, the curve of her lips broadcasts it.

"You seek much, Your Highness." Her hand curves on the muscle just above my elbow, her firm grip anchoring us together as the world around us is a dizzying whirl of color and movement.

My grin is wide, an open challenge as my hand shifts slightly around her waist. "Never more than is proper, my lady."

Her laugh is light, a tinkling melody that dances on the air. "You would have me believe that one such as yourself is pure as the driven snow?"

"In faith, my lady, in matters of the heart, I find myself at a distinct loss. For instance, would it be proper for me to draw you closer, until we are as one, our breaths and hearts mingling?" In the changing light of the torches, I see her eyes darken at my words, her smile remaining. Emboldened, I continue before I can rethink my approach. "Or would it be prudent to invite you to walk in the gardens, enjoying their beauty - and yours - bathed in the moonlight?"

Her hand on my arm tightens. I do believe she is enjoying my verbal tableau. My fortitude is weak here, assaulted by the enormity of what I am daring.

I do as I always do in situations of tenuous outcome.

I forge ahead.

My hand against her waist slides until I am pressing my palm flat against her back and pushing against the smooth plane of muscle, bringing her towards me. The distance between us shortens, the voluminous skirts that hide her legs tangling around my trousers. I can feel her movements all the sharper now, her breasts brushing against me intermittently. I crave the knowledge of their shape and heft within my palms. 

"My lady..." My voice is soft, rougher than just scant moments ago. I am able to clearly see the effect writ upon her elegant beauty. It is as I am impossibly enticing for she leans in toward me, the softness of her lips parting slightly as her rapt gaze remains locked upon me and my speech. "Inexperienced though I may be, my instincts are sound and my mind sharp enough to know that any boon I would dare to seek, you would gladly give to me. I seek naught, my lady, but the continued pleasure of your presence, here...in my arms."

The dusting of roses across her cheeks is most fetching. I must recall that later. I can't muster the caring to bother about continuing to seek her title. I know what I'm going to do. All I do not know is her response.

A sweet eternity we spend on the dance floor, her body moving deliciously against mine, the air between us growing charged with each teasing caress of our bodies. I ache for something I cannot name. I know only that it must be with her. 

The intricate depths of her eyes captivate me, twinkling with mischief in one breath and unfathomable mystery in the next. At times, I could swear I see burgeoning heat in those emerald depths, but it's elusiveness prevents me from absolute certainty. 

All too soon, my time with her draws to an end and I force myself to pull away from the sweet temptation of her embrace, stepping back to an arm's length. She continues to watch me, the slightest of smiles curving her lips. My fingers are loath to leave the smooth silk of her gown, buried in the folds of her skirt. I know not the words that escape me, born of my heart true and spoken in quiet earnest.

"Marry me, sweet lady."

A lilting laugh floats over me and my heart seizes in fear. Had I seriously uttered such a base proposition? I knew I'd been thinking of scant else during our dance and discussion, my mind creating vapid fantasies of forever within the enchantment of her arms even as my body heated from her light touch.

"Your Highness, you flatter me overmuch..." One hand rests on the curve of my elbow, holding me fast in the small circle of our conversation, the words we spoke for our ears only. My hands clutch into fists within the depths of her skirt, hidden from scrutiny so that none might know the agonized anticipation that gallops in my chest.

I look at her, blinded by her arresting features, and I know with certainty I have to make her mine...even if I'm not entirely sure what that entails. I will seek to find definitions once I have her.

Shifting forward, I lean into her, my sharp gaze meeting hers directly. "I flatter not, my lady, but entreat you in earnest. Be my bride."

The light flush that dusted her cheeks through our dance deepens, making the green of her eyes take on a positively bewitching cast. "Your Highness..." She seeks to find excuses. I have no recourse but to head them off. This woman must be mine.

I step forward, further into her. My hands emerge from the folds of her skirt to clasp hers and draw them up between us, holding her closely to me. I can feel the heat of her skin radiating through the layer of thin material that separates our fingers. "Call me not by this title, but that of your affianced. Allow me to show you the wonders that we may reach...together."

"You speak the purest poetry, Your Highness." Her hands clutch my own with strength born of nerves. I had affected her indeed. I look forward to discovering exactly how deeply I am able to affect her in years to come. She _will_ acquiesce. "I will consent on the condition that you never lose this angelic ability."

I smiled, dipped my head, and kissed her gently. 

I am always right.

It's part of being the Prince.


End file.
